Rogue

by Cheryl Brooks

  I had dinner with goats and lizards that evening, and we were served by a toad (Refdeck) and the slave with the octopus fingers, but no tigers. I’ll have to say, the goats put on a darn good show, but watching goats sing and do acrobatic routines was like watching a circus with talking animals. They had their own musicians, but none of them could play the piano, so Scalia asked me to accompany one of them while he sang. I’d never played for a goat before, and though he had a nice tenor voice, I had to keep my eyes on the keyboard, because I couldn’t look at him without cracking up.

  Cornering Scalia after the show, I asked her if I could keep Tychar with me in my quarters all the time.

  “It is already arranged,” she replied with a knowing smile. “I knew you would want to keep him close by in case you needed anything during the night. I do not know why I never considered the matter before.”

  “Do we get locked in with a guard at the door?” I asked. It didn’t matter that much to me, because I would make love with Tychar regardless of whether we were guarded or not, but the guard might get a little tired of hearing me cry out in ecstasy. Then again, it might relieve the boredom of having to stand watch all night.

  She seemed to consider this carefully. “I do not believe it to be necessary to lock the door,” she replied, “but a guard, yes—for his protection, you understand. I do not believe he would attempt to escape. You have been very good for him.”

  So, he’d had a few words with the Queen. It must have been during Zealon’s lesson, because, otherwise, I didn’t think he’d been out of my sight all day—or out of arm’s reach—though he had been the one to bring me my lunch. At least I thought he had; that whole morning had been one big orgasmic blur, so I may have been mistaken.

  I broached the subject of Nindala’s troupe then, hoping that Scalia would recognize the possibility of finding a mate for Trag. She never gave any hint that she might have understood why I asked, but did promise to look into it.

  Then I got even bolder.

  “Any problem with me having Tycharian’s children?”

  She seemed surprised that I would even consider it. “You would have the children of a slave?”

  “Sure,” I said with a shrug. “They’d be awfully cute, don’t you think?”

  Eyeing me unblinkingly, she said, “You enjoy his company?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I replied. “He’s terrific.”

  “Terrific?” Obviously not one of those words that had made it into the Standard Tongue, at least not in this region.

  “Really, really good,” I interpreted.

  It may have been my imagination, but I believe she turned just a little more green at that point.

  “You did say you wanted to breed more of them, didn’t you?” I prompted her.

  “Yes,” she replied, seeming a bit distracted.

  “It would take a little while,” I added, “because I’ve got to wait a few months for my birth control pill to wear off. Oh, and I would keep the babies, of course—and I’d like to buy Tychar from you, too, if I could.”

  I must have been moving way too fast for her, for she just stared at me without comment.

  “I could work off his value in piano lessons,” I went on conversationally. “A few years’ worth should do it, don’t you think?” When she still didn’t reply, I added, “I could teach some other kids, too. Is Zealon your only child?”

  That got a bit of a blink out of her, because I saw her nictitating membrane begin to slide over her left eye. “No,” she said, seeming to come to her senses again. “I have other children. All males.”

  “That’s great!” I said enthusiastically. “I could teach them, too.”

  “Males are not musical,” she said flatly.

  “Well, they are on my world,” I argued. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet there are more male musicians on Earth than there are female.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Oh, yeah! The girls just love them! They sit out in the audience and scream their heads off.” Darconians would thump their tails, of course, but the basic principle was still the same.

  Something seemed to jog her memory just then, because she changed the subject, stating firmly, “There is a bounty on Zetithians.” I knew she’d come back to that sooner or later! “Tychar would not be safe beyond the palace walls.”

  “He would be plenty safe on Earth,” I insisted. “It’s a long way from here, and our security is pretty tight. We don’t let just anyone land there.”

  “He might be harmed during the journey.” Obviously she didn’t want to give up her pets completely, even to me.

  “He could wear a disguise,” I said reasonably. “You know, a cloak with a hood and a veil over his face? I saw lots of people traveling that way.” They must have been really, really ugly, too, because no one ever asked them to uncover their faces. “I know you’re very attached to him,” I said soothingly, “and it would be years before we could leave, but…”

  “I will consider the matter,” she said regally. “But for the present, you may continue to… enjoy him as you see fit.”

  I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to lay it on thick at that point. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said, dropping into a deep curtsy. “You are most kind. I will do my very best to make virtuosos out of any students you choose to give me.”

  “I know you will teach my children to the best of your ability,” she said. “And your own offspring, as well.”

  It wasn’t a real obvious, “Yes, and have all the kittens you want,” but it was good enough for me. I was chuckling to myself as I walked away, and, if I’m not mistaken, Scalia was, too. I might have sprung it on her faster than she thought I would, but I doubted that I’d said anything she didn’t want to hear.

  ***

  One thing I hadn’t reckoned on was just how many other children Scalia would have. Turns out there were five of them, and not one of them had any intention of learning to play the piano. They made me wish I’d been a guitar teacher, instead, because being a rowdy but charismatic bunch of boys, I could have made rockstars out of the lot of them without any trouble at all. Unfortunately, in order to be big enough for a Darconian to play, a guitar would have had to be about the size of a bass violin, which was a bit daunting, and the drums would have had to be really, really sturdy. It was possible that such instruments existed, but I hadn’t seen any lying about, and so, after three days of practicing scales, we were down to two boys.

  Racknay was the eldest and most pompous of the group, reminding me a lot of Wazak, though I had no idea who his father was. Unfortunately, he had the same problem that Zealon did, which was that his fingertips were wider than the keys, something which caused him a great deal of frustration. Still, he had an octave and a half reach, which was pretty cool.

  Uragus was the youngest of Scalia’s children; a little bitty guy with the brightest eyes I’d yet to see on a Darconian and was also the first one I’d ever considered to be cute, though I had no doubt that he would outgrow it. He was so tiny that I had to put a cushion on the bench for him to reach the keyboard, and, as a result, there was no hope of him reaching the pedals for a few more years. Still, he was a chipper little fellow and seemed to enjoy playing, working even harder at it than Zealon. I liked him a lot.

  With the added students, I had less time to spend with Tychar and saw less and less of Trag. It might have been that he was avoiding me, because I gave him such raging hard-ons, but to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have minded if he’d come around just to jack off. Tychar might have objected, though, so I didn’t suggest it.

  But Scalia did.

  I guess she didn’t want me having all the fun with her cats, and though she made it seem like a spur of the moment idea, I was pretty sure she’d been thinking about it for quite a while.

  We were at dinner one evening, and after Zealon went off to bed, she had
the Zetithians sent in the way she’d done on my first night in the palace. I hadn’t seen Trag for about a week and greeted him warmly. He gave me a half-assed smile and stood by Scalia, serving her wine and feeding her the occasional bit of fruit while we talked. Tychar took up a position beside me, and, as usual, his cock blossomed like a rose and began dripping all over my arm. That and his purring distracted me to the point that I could barely carry on my conversation with the Queen—so much so that, when she asked me if I had the same effect on this one, I didn’t know what she meant.

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “Effect on what one?”

  “This one,” she said, stroking Trag’s dick.

  “Well,” I began uncertainly. “I did have at one time, but I don’t know if…”

  “Go stand beside her,” Scalia told Trag. “I want to see it for myself.”

  Damn Queens! I thought. Always ordering the slaves around…

  Tychar was already making me squirm in my chair, so my scent must have been pretty strong, and if the table hadn’t been so large, Trag probably could have smelled me from where he stood. But apparently he needed to be closer, which made some sense, because if they could pick up the scent from across the room, these guys would be hard all the time, and their dicks would probably explode in a crowd of horny women. Trag did exactly as she told him, and if he was trying to control himself, you couldn’t tell it, because as soon as he got a good whiff of me, he was as hard as a glowstone.

  I tried not to stare, but pretty soon, he was dripping on me, too, which was quite effective at getting my attention. I wondered if that fluid would have the same effect when applied to the skin as it did when it came in contact with a mucus membrane. I thought it might take longer that way, but also knew that this wouldn’t have been a fair test, because I was about to climax from the visual stimulation, alone.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen them do that before, have you?” I asked Scalia hoarsely.

  “No,” she replied, “but it has been a fond wish of mine that I would someday.”

  “You should taste it, then,” I suggested. “It makes me have orgasms.”

  “Yes,” she said. “They have told me of this.”

  For some reason I could see Trag telling her that, but not Tychar. Trag was a little less… reserved… than Tychar. I could sense that she had never truly believed their claims, for her skepticism was quite evident in her tone.

  “It’s true,” I assured her. “Watch.” I took a droplet of fluid from Tychar and tasted it. An orgasm followed swiftly, and I gasped, “See? You should try it.”

  The table was too wide to reach across, so Scalia got up and came around to where I sat between the two men. I was pleased that when she touched one of them, it was Trag rather than Tychar, because she did touch him!—wrapped her big, long, reptilian fingers around Trag’s stiff, ruffled dick, leaned down, and licked him.

  The fluid appeared to have no effect on her, but what she did certainly had an effect on Trag! The sound he made was almost a shout, though it was unclear as to whether he was in pain or in ecstasy.

  The Queen paused, savoring the flavor. “Slightly salty,” she remarked, “but it has no effect on me. Pity.”

  She let go of his cock, at which point Trag gasped, “Don’t stop!”

  Poor Trag! His whole body was shaking, and his breathing was as harsh and ragged as that of a dying man. He had to be on the edge, because this was a queen he was talking to, and, not only that, he was her slave.

  “I haven’t come in twenty years!” he exclaimed. “Please, Scalia!” He took in a deep gulp of air, not even able to purr. “I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me. Please, help me…” His voice trailed off to a whisper, and when I looked up, I thought I could see tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks.

  Honest to God, if she hadn’t done it for him, I would have! But she did. Using her tongue on the head, she worked the shaft with her hand. Trag looked like he was about to come unglued, and Tychar was rubbing his own cock on my cheek.

  “When he ejaculates, catch the semen in your mouth,” I told Scalia when Trag appeared to be about to climax. “It’s very sweet.”

  Scalia was in a good position, but when Trag let out a roar, she backed off. He hit her in the mouth with it anyway, shooting out an arc reminiscent of the fountain in The Shrine. It took a few moments, but then…

  “Great Mother of the Desert!” Scalia whispered in astonishment. “I feel…”

  “Better than you’ve ever felt before in your life?” I suggested.

  “Yes!” she replied with a voice filled with awe. “I have heard of this, but never believed it.”

  “Now do you understand why someone decided to exterminate them?”

  Scalia shook her head in wonder. “I have always believed it to have been their beauty which aroused such jealousy and hatred.”

  “No,” I said gently. “I believe it was because of their ability to love. Other men can’t compare.”

  Scalia stood back and looked at Trag. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “They are beautiful, and obviously affect females very strongly, but they are also honest and trustworthy. Their emotions run deep, but they are not… belligerent.”

  I’d known Trag to be a little on the belligerent side, but it had been fairly easy to calm him down, so maybe she was right about that part, too.

  “No, they aren’t the least bit mean,” I agreed. “And it isn’t just these potent fluids they secrete; they seem to be natural born lovers. You’ve always liked them, haven’t you—even though you’ve never been… intimate… with one of them?”

  Scalia nodded. “I have always been partial to them. They are my slaves, but they are not cringing or subservient, nor do they whine about their situation here.”

  I had an idea that this was more due to the fact that she’d treated them with kindness and respect, but I might have been wrong about that. Perhaps they would have maintained the same integrity even if they had been abused.

  “No, they don’t whine, but they are very… persistent.” I glanced up at Tychar, who was smiling at me. Clearing my throat audibly, I added, “Perhaps we shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of them. They may become too… arrogant.”

  “Not a chance!” Trag declared. “Keep talking. I’m feeling better all the time!”

  “You see?” Scalia laughed. “Not subservient at all! I like that about them.”

  “We like you, too, Scalia,” Trag said. “And, thank you, for that,” he added, with a downward glance at his dick. “That was like giving water to someone dying of thirst in the desert.”

  Scalia smiled. “I will give you one more gift,” she said. “If Kyra will do it for me.”

  “What’s that?” I asked with some trepidation, because if it was sex, I was going to have to decline. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed it, but I was in love with his brother!

  “Kiss him,” she said. “It would be more… enjoyable… coming from you than from me.”

  “Well, I don’t know if he’d want—” I began, but Trag cut me off.

  “I would love to kiss you, Kyra,” he said wistfully. “If it’s okay with Ty.”

  I didn’t see the exchange between them, but Tychar must have given his permission, because Trag pulled me to my feet and into his arms. His kiss was poignant and sweet, making me wish I could have had both of them as my lovers. But I couldn’t be that greedy. Somewhere there was another woman who needed him far more than I did, and who would love him all the more because of it. He just had to find her.

  Chapter 11

  I wrestled with this idea for several weeks, but other than pestering Scalia to look for more women or to let Trag go find one for himself, I couldn’t come up with a way to do it. Scalia did take my suggestion to get Nindala’s troupe to come to Darconia, but they were a long way off, and it would be some time bef
ore they could work us into their schedule. It was also distinctly possible that Scalia might refuse to let them meet. I reminded myself that Trag had been waiting for twenty years, and, since his dick still seemed to work as well as it ever had, he could wait a while longer.

  Not that he didn’t become even more persistent. Having all but disappeared for a few weeks, he now found excuses to come to my quarters all the time and even convinced Scalia to let him take piano lessons. He had no talent whatsoever, but must have enjoyed sitting next to me on the piano bench. Which meant that Tychar would sit on my other side—probably just so Trag didn’t get any funny ideas. Trag didn’t remember very many Zetithian songs, but, having been raised by an uncle who frequented the bars in spaceports, he knew a bunch of drinking songs, which were pretty raunchy and did nothing to diminish his level of arousal.

  I loved having them around, but they were driving me nuts, because their dicks were always hot, hard, and dripping with anticipation. As a result, the piano lessons with Trag became more of an exercise in my own self-restraint than any improvement in dexterity on his part. It would have been different if they hadn’t both been naked all the time—which was another thing Trag kept trying to convince me was the way to go.

  “But it’s so hot here, and you look great naked!” he insisted. “And you could wear something—a few necklaces… maybe a bracelet or two. I mean, wow!”

  I was having enough trouble keeping him at bay as it was, so I told him about Nindala, instead, but it didn’t help a whole lot, because he wasn’t sure he’d like blue skin and red hair—aside from the fact that Scalia would probably forbid them to meet.

  Masturbation was the one thing they both seemed to rebel against doing—said it just wouldn’t work without a woman doing it to them—but I just about had Trag convinced to give it a go.

  “Or maybe I could get Scalia to do it again,” he mused. “She seemed to like the snard.”